''
Oh, but I can't believe how you've grown,'' Gerry said.
''
Tall,'' Kathleen muttered. Both hands were now grasping the flute.
''
And beautiful. How you ever became so glamorous is beyond me. Your mother never was one for fashion.''
''
Mom was sick for a long time. She watched television; I looked at fashion magazines.''
Kathleen stiffened, embarrassed that she had shared even that much with him. Magazines had been her inspiration, her training ground for the real world when she was finally free to step into it. She'd learned her lesson well but the world was disappointing her now. She wanted Gerry to understand it had been hard and lonely in those rooms; she wanted him to know how much she longed for the life he had. She wanted him to see her disappointment in his reality. Gerry didn't seem to notice, his joy was so great. Kathleen couldn't bring herself to tell him exactly how she felt.
''
Look at you, Kathleen. Sure, didn't I think Jean Harlow was waiting for me when I came in? A tall Jean Harlow to be sure, but then even I'm not old enough to remember her. I usually don't like a woman's hair short like that, but on you it's wonderful. So tall and shapely, and dressing like a woman should. Feminine. A brain, too. Ah, but aren't you a class act, Kathleen Cotter. You'll be the darlin' of the press. The judges won't be able to resist you.'' He raised his glass again and drank to the glory that was her.
''
Uncle Gerry, please -''
Kathleen twisted her shoulders. Big. That's how her mother described her. Her father never managed more than a glance after puberty and hardly more than that before. She put herself together well but Kathleen had to wonder if Gerry's sight was all it should be.
''
Now, now,'' Gerry laughed, ''we can't have any of that, now can we? No uncle in here. These are the offices of Gerry O'Doul & Associates, and I am here toasting the best associate a man could have. I'm so proud of you, Kathleen. Passing the bar and all. I wish I had known sooner. I wish . . .''
The light in his eyes dimmed a bit. Kathleen turned away, embarrassingly aware of the years of silence between them. Gerry moved past her, full of vim and vigor. He'd had enough of the moment.
''
So, you like my pictures?''
''
I always loved your pictures. Mom used to show me every one.'' She reached out and touched one she remembered best. When she first saw it her hands had been dirty from playing her child games, now her nails were filed oval and painted to match her lips. She had changed. ''You're the reason I became a lawyer. I wanted to be just like you.''
''
And so you are like me. You inherited my genes. Style and brains,'' he gave her a little wink and chuckled. His collar bobbed about his neck like a starched life preserver. He grinned. Could it be that he really didn't sense her despair, her absolute shock to find him in such a state?
''
I can't exactly say I followed in your footsteps.'' She moved away, suddenly tired and needing to rest. No, not rest. She needed distance. She needed to try this all over again with a completely different result. ''You know, I haven't really been doing the kind of work I'm sure you need help with. Dorty & Breyer is just a small office in a strip mall, Uncle Gerry. . .''
He held up a long, bony finger and waggled it at her. Kathleen smiled weakly.
''
Gerry, I mean -'' she tried again. ''What I'm trying to say is I don't really think I have the skills you need in an associate. It was wrong of me to lead you on. I should have sent a resume after you asked me to come here. This is Beverly Hills, after all.'' She looked around the office and out the window as if trying to find some truth in that statement. ''I don't think I'm cut out for this.''
''
Now don't you sell yourself short, Kathleen.'' Gerry O'Doul clucked. ''I wouldn't have asked you here if I thought you couldn't do the job. I know in my bones you're a fine lawyer. It's not all knowing the law. It's the image that counts. Image is half of everything, don't I know. Just look at you. Dressed so smartly. A knockout. A voice that will sing like the angels to a jury as soon as we get something to take to court. That's important, Kathleen, the voice I mean.'' Kathleen opened her mouth to use the voice he so admired but he was like a verbal dervish. ''And smart, Kathleen. I can see you're smart. It's behind your eyes. But more than that, you're a woman of substance.''
''
Uncle Gerry, please.'' Her hands were clammy. Someone had turned up the heat.
''
Don't deny it. Most young lawyers aren't like you.'' Gerry set aside his champagne flute and sat back in his high back chair. It almost engulfed him. He looked right at her and, for a brief and unnerving instant, she saw the man who had so courageously wielded his persuasive powers in court for decades. His gaze was steadfast, his eyes deep with thought, his decision making powers sure in a world that often waffled. ''You are a decent person, Kathleen and that's why the law needs you. That's why I need you. I believe you're letter was a sign. I was almost ready to quit.''
Kathleen was stunned for a moment then she grabbed the straw.
''
You're at an age when you should retire, Gerry,'' she insisted, slipping onto a chair, leaning over his desk and giving him a sincerely concerned look.
''
I said quit, Kathleen. There's a difference. I know what you saw when you walked in here. This isn't the poshest address I've ever had. Times changed. Fashions changed. It wasn't that I lacked the skill, Kathleen; I lacked the style people want in their lawyers today. I would never deal from the bottom of any deck. I won cases based on the law of the land and my wits, not the entertainment value of a defense. When people stopped wanting that, I couldn't change. But now I see the pendulum swinging again. I've watched. I've listened. It's time for me to move again. I'm just not as spry as I used to be. I simply can't do it on my own. Who else could I trust to see the vision but you, Kathleen? Even as a child you recognized that one must never give up on a dream.''
Kathleen half started out of her chair, frustrated and set in motion by her own guilt. She didn't want Gerry O'Doul to need her. She'd fulfilled her familial obligations long ago. She had been nurse to her mother and a scapegoat for her father. She had done everything that was expected of her. Half her life was given to the discharge of those responsibilities, and she wouldn't take them up again.
''
You don't even know me, Uncle Gerry. I was a girl in high school when you last saw me. A lot has happened since then and some of it I'm not too happy about.''
''
You're right. High school was a long while ago. But now I see the woman who sits here, and I can see your life behind your eyes. I know that you sacrificed a career to care for your mother. I know your father was difficult to live with.''
''
No, that's not how it was. I just didn't do anything to change my life or my job,'' she insisted, uncomfortable with the heroic role in which he tried to cast her. He was supposed to be the hero.
''
And you lived in a small town where opportunities were limited.'' Another excuse became forgiving fact.
''
I didn't have the ambition, Gerry, that's why I haven't done more and gone further. . .'' She scooted further up in her chair and laid her arms across his desk. Her hands folded as if pleading with him to stop recasting her so she could stop putting herself down. He was giving her credit for high minded decisions when, in reality, her life had been comfortable and slipped away from her and part of it was his fault. He'd left just when she dared to dream.
Unaware of her pain, Gerry twisted the knife with a loving flourish. ''And you took the opportunity when it came along. Smart girl! Beautiful girl. My niece, for sure.''
Kathleen looked away. One thing was true. She did take the opportunity he held out to her. This time she couldn't blame him when she was the one who did the taking.
''
Uncle Gerry. . .''
''
Gerry. . .''
''
I appreciate all this, but I can't stay. I can't work with you.''
Her hands slid off the desk and into her lap. The blue dress, the white piping, the red nails. She should be waving the flag instead of burning her bridges. The thought of going back to Banning, a hot and barren place with small town problems, was so hard to imagine. But she wouldn't be an old maid holding the arm of a legal legend as he limped toward one last hurrah. Better a small fish in a small pond, than a bit of muck in the Koi pool.
''
Kathleen.''
Gerry O'Doul's voice lost its vitality and Kathleen couldn't look at him. She could be mediocre without his help, but she couldn't face being a shadow on the wrong side of the bright streets of Beverly Hills.
''
Uncle Gerry, I just didn't think it would be so overwhelming. . .'' She offered a small and useless shrug, knowing now she would never tell him the whole truth, but this miserable reunion had to come to an end.
''
So it's not disappointment. Well, 'tisn't that nice to know. You had me worried.'' Gerry nodded sagely. ''Beverly Hills is a world away from Banning isn't it, Kathleen? My goodness, of course you didn't think it would be so overwhelming, did you? Don't you worry, you'll get used to it. We'll be such a team. We'll be having the old office in no time. Did I tell you I had a view of Chanel in the old days? They used to know me in there. For Christmas all my lady clients received a bag from Chanel. Those days will come again.''
Gerry O'Doul leaned across his desk, his face alight; those narrow shoulders of his were ready for some weight.
''
It's all about style, Kathleen. Style and character and brains. You have all three. I will make the rain, together we'll make the strategy and I'll send you off to adventures in the law that you have only dreamed of. It can happen, Kathleen. I know it can. You must believe, too. You must.''
''
But Uncle Gerry…'' With that feeble attempt at objection, the door flew open with such force it sent the pictures on the wall ashivering.
Kathleen twirled in her chair, spilling some of her champagne on her new dress. Gerry didn't move even though it sounded like California's plates were on the skids. Kathleen's last thought of Gerry O'Doul was that, on top of everything else, he must be hard of hearing. Then Kathleen Cotter stopped thinking altogether as her senses were assaulted by the images and colors and sounds that made up the formidable presence of Louise Booker.
CHAPTER TWO
''
You've got to do something, Gerry. Whatever it is you gotta do, I want it done now. Got it? Go to court. Sue those bastards at the insurance company. I want you to grind 'em to a pulp. I want you to chew 'em up and spit 'em out.''
Kathleen snorted. The image of Gerry O'Doul chewing anything other than three minute eggs was a funny one. She quieted when Louise Booker gave her a look that would curdle milk. Louise stormed into the office and Kathleen twirled around just in time to see the woman plant herself beside Gerry's desk. Not only was Gerry cool under fire, he seemed to sit a little taller in his chair as if energized by the woman's fury. He looked at the banshee with the seriousness of a judge, as if a word out of those generous lips was of the utmost import. The lady - and Kathleen used the term lightly - put her large hands on the desk, fingers splayed. Kathleen was mesmerized.
Her nails were painted the palest pink. Small diamonds, implanted on each talon-like tip, twinkled from all except for the middle one. A marvelous miniature of Elvis Presley, resplendent in his white jumpsuit, was painted on that one. Those nails seemed strange on a woman who reminded Kathleen of a bull terrier. Her chest came into the room well before she did. Big, broad shoulders were thrown back to hold up the whole shebang. The top half of her body was precariously perched atop nonexistent hips and the skinniest legs Kathleen had ever seen. Louise was an inverted triangle curiously balanced on big feet which were crushed into a pair of high heeled, platform, patent leather slides. On her back was a white leather jacket studded with a rainbow of faux jewels that matched the ones on her nails. Her skirt was leather, too but this was the kind that goes from cow's carcass to yours for $29.95. Her hair was big, her mouth was wide, her eyes were small and Gerry O'Doul's attention was all hers.
''
Louise, Louise, my dear girl. What brings you here in such a state? Sit down. Sit down properly in a chair.''
Two lovely roses of color bloomed on the apples of Gerry's cheeks as he came 'round the desk. Graciously he held the chair next to Kathleen. Louise looked at it, then gave Kathleen the once over as if she expected her to move. Kathleen couldn't have moved if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. The woman sat in the chair Gerry held, albeit reluctantly.
''
I thought you were Melanie Griffith, for a minute. You're not,'' Louise sniffed. The truth of that meant Kathleen was of no more interest. The lady opened her mouth and Kathleen could swear she saw words forming deep in that cavern. ''Gerry, they turned me down. They won't give me my money! Look at this.''
She unzipped her large bag with intertwined G's printed all over it. Kathleen was hit broadside by a scent of questionable taste. Louise fumbled inside her purse and pulled out an envelope that had a streak of waxy color on one end. It matched her lips. Kathleen had leaned close to watch her progress until Louise gave her the evil eye and pulled her bag close. When Kathleen was safely away, Louise tossed the envelope Gerry's way. Clandestinely she searched in her bag again and came up with the top and bottom of the wayward lipstick. She put them back together, talking the whole time.
''
Those stupid idiots at that insurance company denied my claim. They told me I couldn't have Lionel's benefits. I don't understand it. It was part of the deal. We went to court. You got me that money. Not that we ever, ever expected. . . well, you know. . .but damn, I want my money.